


Petrichor

by beebutts



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Abuse, F/F, F/M, Human Experimentation, Implied Rape/Non-con, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Yoglabs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-10 19:42:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5598433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beebutts/pseuds/beebutts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What seems like a neverending hell, where Rythian is stuck behind laboratory bars and used for his abilities, is not to be what concludes his story. No, he is fortunate (though sometimes, he thinks otherwise) that an encounter with a once-mortal enemy turns into a daily thing, which unknowingly spawns a few more chapters in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea what i'm doing honestly ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ  
> this is just an idea that came to me at 3am about a month ago, and i've finally finished a chapter  
> my first attempt at writing a fic ever; un-beta and done mostly on my phone/ipad + english is not my first language

_It’s painfully cold_ , he notes as he is roused from his slumber. _It's painfully cold, and I really wish that bastard would just turn up the heat sometimes_. 

It's completely dark when he opens his eyes, save for the tiny flickers of light from the machines. The darkness of the room surrounds practically every inch of his vision. He doesn't really complain about it, though. He sleeps in the dark, and wakes up in the dark. It’s almost apart of him. 

What he does complain about, though, is the cold. Still. It's – annoyingly - the only thing he hasn't gotten used to yet. Though then again, the low temperatures are a must when it still is late in the winter. Every other day is a mix of the right kind of warmth, and a blistering heat he had thought was only present in that godforsaken desert. 

He grasps at the rough canvas of a blanket, which currently rests on the ground after another night of restless turning and tossing. That too is extremely cold, but he doesn't have another option. He can't exactly see his clothes at the moment, and he won't be able to until he comes in. 

The lights are on when he wakes up again. He only has a few seconds to furiously rub the sleep away from his eyes and to search for his clothes until the heavy metal door swings open. It slams against the wall loudly, causing him to jolt slightly at the sound. He doesn't halt his search for the clothing, however, and soon finds them folded on his chair a few steps away. 

He pulls himself up and off the bed before moving to pick up the ragged, off-white thing he regards as a shirt. With a huff, he proceeds to wrestles it over his head, trying not to further tear the holes. Twice, his hand slips into the wrong opening, but he eventually is flattening it down. He reaches for his baggy pants and puts those on, too. 

By the time he's all dressed, the door leading to the room beside his sleeping quarters has been opened. The smell of bacon and eggs soon permeates the air. He doesn't quite understand why it smells so good, and not like that burnt crap he typically was served. With a shrug of his shoulders, Rythian began to head in the direction of the entrance that led to the next room. 

 _Ah_ , he thinks to himself when he enters the room.  A familiar figure cloaked in white is sitting before him, back faced towards him when he enters. He's not sure why the man is here today, but he doesn't really question it. Whenever he made his appearance, he normally brought with him a platter of food that wasn't mush clumped together. 

On a table in front of him is his breakfast, sitting on an alabaster plate. Two pieces of toast, along with slices of bacon and a sunny-side up egg rest on it. There's a cup of coffee accompanying his meal today, however. It's a bit strange, when he knows many of the morning workers complain about the broken coffee machine. His stomach lets out an embarrassing grumble, nevertheless.  

“Rythian,” the male says after letting out a snort at the noise. 

“Xephos,” Rythian responds without a second glance at him, choosing to pick up his fork and knife to begin eating. He has already brought up a slice of his egg to eat when he realizes Xephos has turned to face him. He doesn’t put it down, though, and simply continues eating. 

“I suppose you're wondering as to why I am here,” Xephos begins, watching Rythian down half of his coffee. To his dismay, the question doesn't pull any answers out of him. Nevertheless, he continues. 

“Alright, so, it's been a rough few year, I suppose, for the _both_ of us,” he says, to which Rythian lets out a snort at. _He_ had some difficulties that matched up with the issues Rythian dealt with? Sure, maybe he had killed a couple (or maybe a hundred; they were the same thing for him) of Xephos’ testificates, and maybe he had damaged a few of the more expensive machinery in YogLabs, but that would never match up to the amount of abuse and drugging he suffered through. 

His eyes glance down at the fork in his hand. It's starting to look quite tempting to use as a weapon so that he could watch Xephos bleed for once, and not himself. He knows what will happen if he does that, though. The itch in the back of his neck, where a disfigured patch of his skin is, says it all. A little click of a button, and Rythian would be left writhing on the ground, shaking, _hissing_ , because this place was worse than the End and all of its fucking - 

The clatter of some metal object snaps him back into reality. He finds that his fork now resting beside his untouched bacon in a pool of grease, probably having fallen out of his hand after losing focus. Xephos is staring at him with narrowed eyes, an unspoken insult resting on the tip of his tongue. Rythian matches his expression with a look of equal distaste.  

“Right, well,” Xephos awkwardly says, clearing his throat. “A couple of the testificates think it may be a good idea. We don't normally do this for everyone, but…” The man’s gone on to babble about how Rythian had done so much for the company and the world, furthering the knowledge of mankind, and assisting the creation of new technology. It's getting harder and harder for him to restrain himself, he notes, despite just having vividly relived a former experience involving Xephos’ methods of discipline. 

By the time Xephos mentions something somewhat interesting, he feels like he's shaking with the determination to not rip the guy’s head off. It's something about his five years of ‘service’, and how he will be properly rewarded today. The idea of a gift instantly snaps Rythian out of his daydreams of beating the living shit out of him. Of course, he knows that there’s probably something twisted about this, but it still intrigues him. 

“I’ll probably stop by later this afternoon with it,” he concludes as Rythian drops his used napkin unceremoniously on the plate. He signals for a testificate to come in and dispose of the utensils. One suited in a pristine white lab coat scurries in, not daring to look at both Xephos and Rythian, before rushing back out the door. Xephos follows then with a leisurely pace, not before pausing at the door. 

“See you soon, Rythian.” A smirk appears on his lips as the door shuts close. 

Later on that day, when Rythian is strapped to a table, feeling gloved hands run through his hair while another sinks a needle into his neck, Xephos is not present. No, the three men appear unannounced, dressed in suits quite obviously stained with blood and _god_  knows what else. For a moment, he wonders why he would think the grand bastard himself would show up. He'd never allow himself to get into close proximity with such men. They're vile, the scum of the earth, pulled from the shadiest alleyways of the cities in order to make this a special day for Rythian.

And so he curses, curses the day he let his guard down just once, just for _him_ , curses how the world watched - and still does - him suffer, and curses Xephos' name under his breath, as the world goes black for the millionth time in his life. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rythian gets another gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys for the kudos and comments! they really make my day (´･ω･`❀)  
> i'll probably be uploading this every 3-5 days, sooner if i'm not too busy.  
> also, there won't be a lot of action in these next few chapters, cause there ain't much a guy can do in a small, closed area ewe

He finds that it's unusually warm when he wakes up. At first, he assumes one of the testificates pitied him enough to allow a bit of warm air circulate through the room. His mind soon changes, however, when he rolls onto his back and feels a sharp stinging sensation.

With a grumble, Rythian forces himself up into a sitting position. The pain spreads from his back to the sides of his chest and his tailbone, and he soon realizes that the cause of his irritation - and unusual warmth - are the nail marks he sees raked across his body. He suspects that the scratches scattered amongst his body don't have anything to do with the pain by his tailbone, which has now moved to his ass.

A part of him wants to simply go back to sleeping on the gurney, despite how uncomfortable it was. The grumble of his stomach tells him that the day isn't over yet, and that if he doesn't wants to miss dinner, it is best to stay up and wait for someone to deliver him his meal. And honestly, food sounds like the greatest thing in the world right now, even though the food he got wasn't anything more than just stale bread, some mashed-up vegetables, and maybe a small bowl of slightly-burnt soup. Rythian really does wonder how bad the chef can be if they can burn soup.

During the wait for his food, Rythian had gotten up, gathered his discarded pants and boxers, and went to go and take the shower. Although the water is not much better than the water from a duck-infested pond, he had wanted to get rid of that nastiness he felt the three scientists had left on him. _As a mark_ , Rythian had thought while the water ran down his back.

After a few more minutes of drying up and rubbing the sore areas of his waist, he hears the ever-familiar buzz of the tall, metal door before him, as a slot near the bottom is opened. What is pushed out of it is a metal tray. On it are two plates, a plastic cup, and a metal spoon; one plate with his vegetable mush, the other with a bread roll obviously harder than a rock, and the cup containing water. There's no soup this time, which kind of makes him sad, as he is sort of craving a warm drink. He knows that there is hot water available from the tap in his bathroom, but the colour of that water has an ominous green tint to it, so he never drinks it.

He picks up the tray and brings it to the wooden table in his room, which is separate from the experimenting lab. It feels like only mere moments when Rythian is trying to gnaw on the bread, the cup drained and his mashed vegetables - which consisted of potatoes, carrots, and broccoli - all gone. Whoever did the cooking at YogLabs never gave him enough food, but he doesn't expect them to care.

What he also doesn't expect is the door opening, revealing not another scientist, but Xephos himself again. He's dressed up in that little red jacket of his rather than his usual lab coat, however. A diamond sword has been strapped onto his back, the hilt of the blade shining quite oddly in the light of the doorway. Obviously, he must be going out to see Honeydew. No other person in this world could force him into his ‘adventuring’ outfit, not when Xephos had more important plans to deal with, such as finding a way to become God. It's a bit cliché of him to do so, but Rythian can't really blame him. He's experienced the same high of having so much power before. It's quite addicting.

Of course, there's another reason, but neither of them like to dwell on it.

A surprised expression momentarily passes by his face, which is soon covered up by his neutral face. Quickly, he discards of the bread, tossing it into the trash. It's not like he’ll be able to break it into smaller pieces anytime soon.

He doesn't seem to be fast enough, though. Xephos notices him and clicks his tongue at that, shaking his head slightly while also taking a step forwards.

“That's quite wasteful of you, is it not?” he asks, a brow being raised as he speaks. “Throwing away what you need to survive…I would have never thought you would be trying this again, Rythian. You _do_ know what will happen, right?”

Rythian scoffs and chooses not to answer him. “What do you want?”

“Oh, Rythian,” Xephos replies, feigning a hurt look. “Why would I ever want anything from you?”

Rythian really wants to rip Xephos’ dick off right now, but he decides that now is probably not the best time.

“Honestly, though, I'm not here for something,” the male continues on, unsheathing his sword and twirling it in his right hand idly. “I simply have another gift for you.” The comment almost instantly snaps Rythian to his attention. _Another_ present? He had never done that before. Of course, knowing Xephos, this too would bound to be more of a nightmare than anything, but he can't help but wonder what else did he have in mind to torment him even more. He had already tortured him both physically and psychologically, not to mention that he kept him in one of the more unsanitary labs. Rythian is almost certain he can take what Xephos will throw at him next.

“Do you know how… _hard_ it is, knowing that the man - who quite possibly ruined a perfect life - dwells within the same building as you? And you can't exactly do anything about it, or else it might just destroy your life entirely?” Xephos’ grip has tightened on his sword, his knuckles already white. He's shaking, too, but only very slightly. Still, it's enough so that Rythian notices, and is quite mystified as to why it's happening.

“You can't harm them, you can't _kill_ them –“ Rythian watches as Xephos closes his eyes and lowers his head, the tip of the sword colliding with the ground with a soft _tap_. “- And, you think, you can't even make this world more of a living hell? Make it so that they could understand what horrible _shit_ you've gone through, so they could suffer too?” His head whips up to look at Rythian, his eyes faintly glowing blue in the dim lighting of the room. Almost as if he just recognized the informal state he was in, Xephos straightens his back and sheathes his sword.

“So, I suppose, that is why I've made a few more arrangements you will enjoy quite a bit.” His words end with a devilish grin. With a clap of his hands, the doors are pushed open just a bit more to make way for another person.

Maybe this was a good time to rip Xephos’ dick off.

Because when the male comes fully into Rythian’s line of sight, when he has clearly seen the unmistakable blond hair and the worn, clouded goggles that reflect the light from outside the door, he thinks, _fuck it_ , and suddenly doesn't mind the electric shock that will be coursing through his body in a matter of seconds.

Because Lalna has just walked through the door, in all of his damned glory, carrying a bag clinking with glass bottles and god knows what else.

Because he hisses and charges at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yey it lalna


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lalna is a baby and Rythian is really done with his shit.
> 
> Well, they're both done with each other's shit,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> encountered a writer's block; this chapter and the next few may not be my best. my apologizes /:

The electricity racing up his spine brings Rythian to a halt as soon as his fingers reach Lalna's neck. He falls to the ground, screaming profanities and curses, and snarling threats beneath his breath. He tries to bring his hands up to claw at his nape, knowing that the chip embedded beneath his flesh was causing this torment, but he can no longer move them, or any of his limbs. A part of him begins to berate himself for even thinking that this was a good idea. Why did he even think that a small, almost minuscule, chance at taking out Lalna was even _worth_ the vulnerability that came with the voltage? 

His eyes dart up to lock with Xephos. The look on his face is almost murderous, almost as if he wanted to kill him. It seems like a better idea, in comparison to lying on the floor, twitching occasionally as the final sparks hit him. But he knows that it isn't likely. For what he had done to Xephos, a small mistake that turned out to be more devastating than the apocalypse itself, could never measure up to death. In fact, a simple murder would never give back what Xephos had lost. The only thing that could sate his needs was to see Rythian in an endless cycle of abuse and maltreatment, until even  _that_ couldn't appease him anymore.

The pain finally begins to ebb away. He still can't move his arms, though, or his legs. He's stuck on the ground, lying there like some poor excuse for a rag-doll. It's humiliating. He knows. But what shred of dignity does a demigod (such as himself) have when he's been caught and trapped by some company, whose technologies once could not even keep a _human_ enslaved for long?  

It's far more ridiculous, Rythian thinks to himself as he looks at Lalna now, when the person who had escaped was a clone of the blond man that stands before him right now. His behaviour is that of a nervous wreck. A confused expression rests on his face while his left hand fumbles around with something in his coat pocket. The other is raised, floating in the air, pointing at him. It doesn't faze him though, how he suddenly looks like the boy he once met a long time ago, rather than the man who had watched him being shot, being pierced with bullet after bullet, so that he was able to drug him into a black haze.

Rythian knows what Lalna's capable of. And he's not going to let him get under his skin for a third time. 

They're still staring at each other when Lalna moves forwards and kneels down beside him. He stretches out his arm to lightly rest his hand on Rythian's shoulder, to which he jerks away from. Well, he tries to, anyways. The electricity still has most of his muscles locked tight. He can't really do much to remove Lalna from his presence, besides shifting his head. It's quite irritating.

Fortunately, though, he thinks it's just enough control, just enough power that he's been granted. And, for once, he's quite thankful Xephos couldn't afford to risk running wires so close to his brain. It would have provided him with a simple exit for him out of this place. Though it would have been the best option in this scenario, any sort of small victory he could achieve was good enough for him.

"Hey!"  

He licks his lips, the metallic taste of blood now on his tongue. He normally wouldn't stoop so low as to bite at Lalna, but any sort of small victory was worth it at the moment. Besides, it wasn't like Xephos could shock him again. His body could only withstand so much electricity. Xephos knew this. It was why he never pushed Rythian to the brink of death, as he wanted to keep him alive for as long as possible. 

"This - _this_  - doesn't show me at all how he's safe!" Lalna's voice cuts through his train of thoughts. "You said he was fine! And he's clearly not! This wasn't apart of our deal, Xephos!" A deal? That has Rythian's attention within an instant. Or, well, a few delayed 'instants'. The sudden soreness in his joints seemed to be a priority in his mind. 

"Oh, look, you'll be fine," Xephos replies, rolling his eyes at the blond's behaviour. 

"He just  _bit_ me!" 

"It's just a simple scratch. You'll heal." 

Lalna turns around, crossing his arms and pouting like a child. Both Xephos and Rythian let out simultaneous sighs. He lets out an embarrassed cough afterwards when Xephos looks down at him, a brow raised and a curious expression.

He turns back around, pausing, before running his hand through his hair. "Look, we'll - I'll, I dunno, honestly. He hasn't acted out in a while. Heck, I don't even think I've had to replace a testificate in a while!" The look on Lalna's face shows that he still doesn't believe him. He lets out another sigh. "Maybe it's just that, well, it's you?" Rythian snorts at that to confirm Xephos' suspicions. Lalna, however, still looks quite unconvinced.  

Xephos lets out a loud groan. "Okay, look, it's either this or a dead -" To Rythian's disappointment, he cuts himself off. Xephos sends a wary glance at him, who is now sitting upright and rubbing his neck after his muscles began to respond to his commands. Rythian watches as the brunet leans in and whispers something in Lalna's ear. His expression quickly changes from unimpressed to shocked. Xephos moves away, obviously quite pleased with himself, and stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Remember our terms, friend," he says before turning around and walking out the door.

When Rythian looks back at Lalna again, there's something unusual on his face.

Terror.

* * *

They've been working in silence for the past hour or so. Rythian hasn't been able to screw up whatever Lalna's been working on. It's mainly because Xephos had stopped by again, informing him that Lalna was in the possession of a couple vials of liquid ender, in case he had to be sedated in order for Lalna to do his work. He still has been particularly stubborn, though. Not a single part of him believes that Lalna would have the courage to even try something like that again. Rythian can tell that he still feels horrible about what he had done to him.

He's still tense, though, because he needs to keep his guard up. Just in case. Lalna's surprised him twice now; it's not like he wasn't able to do the same again.

When he sees Lalna scrunching up his hair in irritation again rather than muttering a curse like always, Rythian realizes that he's been abnormally quiet. Maybe it's because of the same reason for why he hasn't threatened to drug him yet. Though, currently, he believes that Lalna simply prefers the chirps and beeps of the machinery, rather than the risk of something else. And he's right. Their conversations would most likely be nothing more than just awkward remarks and hateful comments, if Lalna tried to speak with him. Rythian would probably be doing most of the bashing, though. Lalna was never one to snap at him. It was one of the many things he liked -

"What deal did you make with Xephos?" he suddenly asks. Lalna visibly flinches at his voice. Rythian doesn't like breaking the silence of the room, but he also doesn't like the thoughts that had been going through his head.

"I-it's, uh, it's nothing you need to worry about," Lalna responds, keeping his eyes on his computer. Rythian snorts.

He slides off the gurney and lands quietly on the ground. It doesn't seem to be quiet for Lalna, however, who twitches slightly before continuing on with his typing. Rythian proceeds to move forwards, nevertheless.

"I'm not, I'll, uh, I'll use 'em if I have to," Lalna states, one hand dug into his pocket while the other hangs limply by his side. He's stopped whatever he was doing, but he still hasn't turned to face him, to show that his attention was focused on him.

Rythian presses on.

"I'm serious," Lalna speaks again, this time clinking the glass phials together in a feeble attempt to frighten him.

Rythian keeps on walking, his pace slow and steady.

The metal chair Lalna has been sitting on is thrown to the floor, the loud  _clang_ reverberating throughout the room. He's standing on both of his feet, now facing towards him, an obviously pissed expression on his face. He takes out a single dosage of liquid ender with a trembling hand, gripping the glass so tightly, Rythian would have thought that it would have broken from the pressure. Of course, that never happens, and Lalna somehow manages to slide it into a syringe. 

"I'll do it," he says, raising his head slightly to lock eyes with Rythian. The man continues forwards until he is only two or three feet away.

"I _will_ do it," Lalna says, thinking the addition of another word would make him seem more threatening.

"Really?" Rythian finally speaks, tilting his head at the blond. "Will you _really_ do it? Because my knowledge of you says that you won't because you are afraid. Because my knowledge of you says that you feel too guilty to drug me again. Because my knowledge of you says all these things, but clearly, I have been _wrong_ before."

He stretches out an arm towards him.

"So please," he says, violet eyes narrowing. "Do me the honours of showing how you can do it again."

For a moment, something fleets by in Lalna's eyes. It looks like he might actually do it.

Then he drops the needle. Or, rather, he throws the needle on the ground. It takes Rythian by surprise. Lalna's already looking at him when he raises his head, his eyes wide and questioning why he had just did that.

"I've changed," he begins, his fingers curling into his palms. "Alright? I have. Maybe it's not in the way you wanted, but I fucking have. Do you think that these five years have been easy on me? That I haven't felt like shit every time I went to bed, knowing that I've fucked over your life countless times? That I don't know how I can never give you a break, because I always end up finding a way to shit on you even more?" He turns and pulls out another vial before throwing that one against the wall. It shatters upon impact, covering it in that disgusting liquid. Rythian makes a mental note to never go near that wall. 

"Xephos told me to do all this fucking shit to you, but I haven't. Because, guess what, I've changed enough to know that you deserve at least one break in your damn life," Lalna snarls, backing now facing Rythian. "So, for once, I'm just gonna take whatever life'll throw at me right now, because you, of all people, should get to have just one moment of peace." Lalna throws the last dosage against the opposing wall.

Rythian's too stunned to think of something to say. Even when he does, his own words being nothing more than just a simple remark, Lalna already has his bag in hand, and walks out the door, mumbling something about meeting him again tomorrow morning.

For a moment, he thinks about their old conversations.

Lalna was right; he has changed.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! feel free to leave comments (and notes about any grammatical/spelling errors) down below. i am aiming to post at least one chapter a week.  
> also, if you feel like i need to add a tag, please comment which one! i am not the greatest at tagging (･∀･；)


End file.
